


Imperfect

by kitoky



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 02:02:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2049180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitoky/pseuds/kitoky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>It was out of selfishness that they begged Aslan to let them stay that day before the tree. </i> The four Pevensies beg Aslan to stay in Narnia, the home they yearn for, at the end of their adventures in Prince Caspian. For better or for worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imperfect

**Author's Note:**

> Back during our Susan/Caspian Livejournal heyday, we had weekly challenges. This was my entry for the weekly prompt #4: "taste". It's very sad and gritty and dramatic, so don't expect to be happy at the end of this. 
> 
> As tagged, major character death, implied sexual situations, and graphic violence.
> 
> **Please do not repost or re-publish on any other site.**

  
It was out of selfishness that they begged Aslan to let them stay that day before the tree. It was out of selfishness that they professed Narnia needed them as they needed Narnia. It was out of selfishness that they could not bear to face the railroads of England, the uncomfortable feel of their cheap, conservative clothing, and the scrutiny of others. 

  
And so it was out of selflessness that Aslan blew the refreshing Narnian air upon their faces and allowed them the luxury of home once more.  
  
  
  


\--------

  
  
  
  
  
It was the taste of a pear that simply held the sweetness of its fruit. There was no taste of guilt. The guilt that the soldiers at the shores would not have this food. The guilt that starving children without parents would not get to eat at night. The guilt that their nation was in a war and as mere  _children_ , Peter spat, were helpless. It was the taste of an apple that held no bitterness of being taken from Narnia. The regret that they had followed the white stag that day. The shame that they all wanted to leave their parents to be able to go back. 

  
Here, in Narnia, apples and pears tasted of contentment not turmoil.  
  
  
  


\--------

  
  
  
  
No sooner than seven months after King Caspian’s coronation did diplomats and suitors come riding (and sailing for that matter) to Narnia to discuss the possible blossoming of a strong bond between the nations. As Queen Lucy was not of marriageable age, Queen Susan was offered most all proposals, quite similarly in the early years of the Golden Age.

  
  
“You may see now, my dear Su, that politics in this age are more difficult to handle than it was thirteen hundred years ago,” High King Peter said to her. “However, it is an old tradition that you should decide who you may or may not wish to marry and it is not one I am so eager to change.”

  
  
And so it was to everyone’s surprise, except her brothers’ and sister’s, that Queen Susan turned away suitor after suitor despite their rich gifts and powerful countries. At first, no one knew what to make of the Gentle Queen’s rejections, and many continued to rush in even if it was simply to have chance at her actually submitting to their offerings. Nevertheless, a year passed of the same results for every nation that came from the deepest reaches of the world and the proposals became more and more diminished.

  
  
“Is it because your Majesty sees politics poor grounds to marry?” Caspian inquired curiously as Queen Susan shot another arrow. He bit into his apple. “Or perhaps your standards are for an admirer who may challenge my queen to see who fires a better arrow?”

  
  
Susan lowered her bow, squinting against the sunlight to observe her shot. The other kings and queen sat comfortably upon the slight hill close by, admiring their sister’s precision.

  
  
At her silence, the young king continued, “Of course, there is the commendable courage of a suitor who may stand against Your Majesty's bow as a target.”

  
  
“Don’t encourage her, Caspian,” Peter called, propping himself up on one elbow. “A small slip of a string and I may end up with more enemies than I can count before dusk tomorrow.”

  
  
“You have my compliance, High King,” Caspian capitulated. “However, I simply must know our chances of having anyone as an ally else I should fear for Queen Lucy’s liberty. Men of high rank want women of good standards.”

  
  
Edmund snorted, watching as another arrow flew. “After Su’s display of her sentiments toward the Duke of Pilfrey last week? I imagine Lucy’s got a good six years before anyone dare proposes.”

  
  
“I give her ten,” Peter added.

  
  
“I’m not quite sure if I should take offense to any of this,” Lucy pondered, innocently. “I am quite divided, as Narnia means so much to me I don’t think I can bear to leave.”

  
  
“Not to worry, Lu,” Ed patted her hand comfortingly. “At any rate you might be worst off than Susan here. We just might have to ask for sacrificial limbs for them to have you.”

  
  
The Valiant Queen gave a disgusted face, “What a horrid thing that is, Edmund!” But soon they all found themselves laughing.

  
  
“If you are so eager for an alliance,” Susan spoke up then, directing her question to Caspian. “It is perhaps most logical for you to offer a fulfilling marriage to someone. The Lady of Remar kept her eyes plastered to you so much during their visit that I was afraid for her stumbling feet.”

 

The Telmarine king released a rumbling laugh. “Quite the suggestion, my queen. Should I have a need for an unending stock of figs I would marry her this instant, I assure you. Otherwise, their trifling number of trade ships is admissible.”

 

“So it is that you feel politics being creditable grounds to marry?” Susan quipped, another arrow hitting the edge of the round target decoratively. 

 

“It is questionable,” said Caspian, throwing the core of the apple to the side and walked to the armed queen. She drew the string back once more, and Caspian leaned closely in, “It just seems senseless to take another woman when the most beautiful in all the world already resides not a thousand meters from me.”

  
  
The string was discharged and Susan watched Caspian’s haughtily retreating form.

 

“Oh, Susan! It was nearly perfect,” cried Lucy. “I suppose it could always look like a dented orange.”  
  
  
  


\--------

  
  
  
  
The celebratory feast that was held to welcome the Lord Mersus of Hyber was nothing short of festive. Upon his arrival early that morning, his procession carried in a plethora of fine silks and bright treasures. The fine gifts were not without repayment, of course, as the stern lord asked for Queen Susan’s hand in marriage and requested that she would not give him her final answer until the day of his departure.  
  
  
  
Caspian observed that Lord Mersus was an arrogant man, boastful in an almost devious way. Peter noted that he demanded more of his subjects than they of him. Lucy commented on his unappealing frizz on his upper lip. Edmund enjoyed the roast, and the duck, and there were some fine strawberries in this stock.  
  
  
  
Hidden by the elegant dining table, no one saw the slightest touches of King Caspian’s hand against Queen Susan’s or the subtle long glances they made. And their countenances never gave away anything to suggest their guest’s intentions were unwelcome.   
  
  
  
The feast continued pleasantly but that was nothing out of the ordinary.  
  
  
  
Yet, it was still to Lord Mersus embarrassment and insult to his standing that upon his leave Queen Susan declined from his offer. In a display of fury and pride, he threatened the end of Narnia. The Kings and Queens were taken aback, as no suitor before (however scorned they were) had such audacity to promise such an end.  
  
  
  
“It is advisable,” High King Peter enlightened the lord. “That you keep face, Lord Mersus. No insult was intended. You arrived here on good terms, and it is our hope that you should leave in the same fashion.”

 

  
The lord did not heed the High King’s advice, but quickly stormed through the courtyard and out the gates of the stronghold. 

 

  
Two weeks later, a far colony in the north was attacked much to the discontentment of King Peter. Caspian and Edmund were sent to discuss damages of the colony and found that it was by the Lord of Hyber that ordered its destruction. No diplomat was sent from Hyber but a messenger brought word to the two high-strung kings. Lord Mersus seeks to conquer Narnia, and negotiations cannot be made.

 

  
Caspian and Edmund returned home with hardened expressions as they announced to their fellow king and queens:  
  
  
  
“It is the beginnings of war.”  
  
  
  
  


\--------

  
  
  
  
It is not out of cowardice that they turned their backs on England, Peter told himself at night. It was out of wanting of the freedom they had in Narnia. It was the freedom to be who they were.   
  
  
  
It was the freedom for him to lead his country to a peaceful future and have before him the respect he deserved as High King. It was the freedom for Susan to choose her way and be comfortable, gentle, in her person without nylons or make up. It was the freedom for Edmund to enjoy a good game of chess with close mates and to judge those worthy. It was the freedom for small Lucy to enjoy the profound things of a good life and to be valiant when others were less so.  
  
  
  
_We are heroes here_ , Peter thought as he rolled over into another sleepless position.  
  
  
  


\--------

  
  
  
  
The war went on for weeks, then months, soon even years started to blend in with each other. Battles came and went. Some were won, some were not. The front lines were different every time, and many simply followed the lead of the one they trailed. 

 

  
Eventually, everyone forgot why they were at war and what they were fighting for. But both old and new, they all fought out of love for their country and by their love for their Kings and Queens. And it was out of the belief that Narnia would live on forever because of their sacrifice that they were able to fight for so very long.  
  
  
  


\--------

  
  
  
  
“Our cause is lost,” Queen Susan cried, pacing the floor in tearful distress.   
  
  


“No, it isn’t,” King Caspian deferred, desperate for the good queen to stop her frenzied actions. “There is a force on the other side of the river, if we can---.”  
  
  


“No, dear king. They have a mere count of a hundred. Asking them to attack would be a larger blow than we can take,” the Queen muttered. She pulled on the leather strap of her quiver, and brought a shaky hand to her forehead. “All of this. This is all for  _nothing_. I should’ve accepted the lord’s proposal.”   
  
  
  
“There is no recourse to be taken here,” Caspian spoke firmly, leaning on his fists against the marble table. “You could not have---.”  
  
  
  
“Couldn’t I have?” she interjected, her words harsh and broken. “Telmarines. Narnians. So many have died because I could not have swallowed my pride against taking such a man as a husband!”  
  
  
  
“And what of my pride?!” the Telmarine struck the table, a crack resounding through the hall.   
  
  
  
Queen Susan stood stark still at the fierce determination in his eyes.   
  
  
  
“Should you not have choked on yours, I would not suffer my own to injury. I could not bear to see the day he should take you from me. He may take my land, my crown, my people, but he may not have  _you_!”  
  
  
  
Rounding the table, she kept her gaze on him trying to sort out all the passion the man had sputtered just then.  
  
  
  
Caspian spoke again, quieter. “The Lord Mersus came before us to capture Narnia as his own, whether or not he should do so by your hand in marriage. And this I will promise: He shall have to face my lifeless body before he should touch a strand of hair from your Majesty’s head.”  
  
  
  
Susan gently unraveled his tightened grasp on the edge of the table and held his hand in her own. “Then it shall my promise that I may draw my last breath before I see Narnia succumb to his will.”  
  
  
  
Caspian saw his mirrored conviction in her sky blue orbs and kissed her resolutely, sealing the promises. With his uninjured hand, he pressed her against him while her hands grasped the thick of his chain mail. He felt the wetness of her tears upon his cheek but he did not stop to ask why she wept so. Because he knew deep in his heart that they may have sealed, along with their promises, their fate.  
  
  
  
That night King Caspian returned to Queen Susan in the privacy of her Majesty’s bedchambers as he did the night after, and the night after that. Everyone of the castle acknowledged it, but never questioned it. And so as months passed, King Caspian’s servants knew not to ready his room at night but made sure her Majesty’s quarters were well stocked.   
  
  
  
It was the hope of their subjects that weighed heavily upon their royal shoulders, and it was in the arms of each other that they weighed their own fears.  
  
  
  


\--------

  
  
  
  
The rider in the rain burst through the hastily opened gates of the castle calling for aid.  
  
  
  
“Help! Help! The High King is injured!” He cried frantically, waking the sleeping residences, “Send for help, please!” The smaller man held on to the mane of the Horse as it galloped to a gentle stop, making sure the nearly unconscious king would not tumble off. Guards rushed out followed by the Gentle Queen.  
  
  
  
“Good, sir,” she cried, easing her brother off the stallion. “What has happened?”  
  
  
  
“The main camp was ambushed,” the soldier rushed, and held the majority of the king’s weight on his back. Queen Susan called for a servant to get a healer and to meet them in the high king’s bedchambers promptly. After ordering the guards to assist the soldier in escorting the king inside the castle, she rushed off to wake her sister.  
  
  
  
“Peter?! Is he all right? Oh, Su---what’s going on?!” the youngest queen was nearly fifteen, but she still had the innocence of a young girl.  
  
  
  
“Shh, shh, Lu.” Susan eased, and took her hand. “Come, where is your cordial?”  
  
  
  
Lucy rushed over to her nightside table and drew out a drawer. “I keep it handy, always. We’ve been having so many fatalities lately, it’s been put to good use.”  
  
  
  
They both moved quickly to their dear brother’s quarters and burst into the room. There, the soldier that had brought the high king, several guards and servants, and a healer surrounded the bed.   
  
  
  
“How is he?” Queen Susan rushed to bedside. “Lucy, the cordial.”  
  
  
  
The healer, a constant visitor when attending to the kings and queens, gently wrapped bandages around the High King. “He’s got a deep gash in his side, and his left arm seems to be broken, and with this fever it looks like tonight will be his worst.”  
  
  
  
“Please, good lady,” Susan insisted that the healer pause. “Lucy has her cordial here. It should help him get through the night.” The healer nodded and even after all this time, she still knew not how the cordial worked but because she has seen its miracles, did not protest.  
  
  
  
Lucy promptly came between them, as Susan lifted her brother up to a suitable position. “Peter? Open up, Lu’s here with her cordial.” Peter groaned at the sharp movement, but could not respond. Dropping no more than two drops on her brother’s lips, Lucy capped her vial once more. The High King grumbled something, and fell into content sleep.   
  
  
  
“There’s not much more we can do,” Susan gently said and turned to the healer, “Could you be so kind as to finish his wounds?”  
  
  
  
“Oh, Susan. Could I please stay with him? I’m afraid there is no way I could possibly sleep after all this.” Lucy pleaded, not moving from the side of the bed. “Someone should watch to see if he wakes up.”  
  
  
  
Susan could never say no to her dear sister, and out of concern for their brother, she agreed. “If there’s any progress, and I should hope there is, please come get me?” At her sister’s nod, Queen Susan ordered for a guard to be always outside his Majesty’s chambers.  
  
  
  
“If I may,” Susan said to the soldier. “I’d like to have a word.”  
  
  
  
He bowed in compliance and Susan led him to Peter’s study. Quickly, she lit a match and lighted the candles. The soldier stood anxiously, his armor and hair still wet from the drizzle outside.  
  
  
  
“Rest easy, good sir,” said Queen Susan with a sure smile, but the soldier still shuffled causing his armor to cry embarrassingly. “What is your name?”  
  
  
  
“Gilmer, your Majesty,” he managed, as Susan leaned forward against the round table strewn with various pamphlets and books.   
  
  
  
“Sir Gilmer, you have acted magnificently this night,” Susan said, her expression grateful if not harried. “I thank you, as do my brothers and sister, for your bravery. Please. Tell me exactly what happened.”  
  
  
  
The soldier finally alleviated his stiff stature at the queen’s high praise. “I... Well, we had set up the main camp just south of the River Rush and everyone tucked in for the night. Everything was secure, my queen. All precautions were made but… the next thing I knew, the camp was lit with fire and everyone was in a frenzy.”  
  
  
  
He paused and Susan tried to urge him on, “… And--- how was it that the High King is in this state? Is Caspian safe?”  
  
  
  
“I know nothing of it, my lady. King Caspian called upon me and ordered me to take the High King back to castle and so it was what I have done.” He bowed deeply as if apologetic for his useless account of the event.  
  
  
  
“And you have done well, good sir,” said Queen Susan.  
  
  
  
A knock was heard at a window of the study and Gilmer pulled his sword to protect the Gentle Queen. Susan bid him to sheath his sword, and opened the glass barriers. A young Gryffin stumbled into the study coarsely, wings flapping in awkward angles causing droplets of water to fly everywhere.  
  
  
  
“My queen!” it cried. “I have here a message from King Caspian.”  
  
  
  
Susan took the scroll gratefully and hurried to open it up.  
  
  
  
_My queens,  
  
Our main camp was under fire but the attack was held off. I had sent an injured Peter to the castle and I am hoping for his safe arrival. Our numbers have lessened but I cannot forgive myself if I were to ask for Queen Lucy’s cordial at this moment. We intend to back track to Aslan’s How at daybreak.  
  
Be safe.  
King Caspian X of Narnia  
_  
  
  
Susan let out an audible sigh of relief and turned to the Gryffin.  
  
  
  
“The attack’s over then?”  
  
  
  
The Gryffin bowed as much as it could. “Yes, your Majesty. King Caspian had me deliver the note the minute everyone was safe.”  
  
  
  
“It is never safe during war,” the queen said grimly.   
  
  
  


\--------

  
  
  
  
Peter was dreaming about the time Edmund hit a cricket ball straight to his face. However, he questioned whether or not it was a dream when his eyes opened and he felt a piercing ache go through his head.  
  
  
  
“Peter?”  
  
  
  
Another striking pain.  
  
  
  
“Oh dear Aslan, Su.” Peter groaned, keeping his eyes shut once more. “That hurt.”  
  
  
  
“Sorry,” she said again, voice apologetically softer. “Do you remember what happened?”  
  
  
  
“With this headache, it’s unlikely I’d remember Lu’s birthday.” He replied, finally opening his eyes to the two girls each situated on either side of him.  
  
  
  
Lucy huffed, “I’d appreciate it if you remembered that bit.” Peter smiled lovingly at his young sister.  
  
  
  
“What’s happened since I’ve been out?” Peter asked immediately, resorting back to his duties. “Is the camp all right? Caspian?”  
  
  
  
“The camp was salvaged. Caspian is leading them to the How right now. I sent word to Edmund. He wrote back that he’d meet Caspian there from the Shuddering Woods.” Susan rubbed her face tiredly.  
  
  
  
“Aslan?” Peter asked hopefully.  
  
  
  
Susan shook her head, “No news. Ed’s been searching for weeks, and yet no news.”  
  
  
  
“I told you all,” Lucy cried. “I should have gone! It’s always been me to find him before. He sees that I believe in him most…”  
  
  
  
“It’s not about believing, Lucy.” Susan said tightly, “We all here believe in him, which is why we’ve been hoping he’d come back and help us but… you’re the youngest, Lu. We don’t want you out all alone especially when we’re at war.”  
  
  
  
Lucy looked to Peter for some support on the argument, but received nothing but pitying eyes and a wry smile.  
  
  
  
“Where could Aslan be?” the youngest Pevensie pondered.  
  
  
  


\--------

  
  
  
  
Not eight days later did tragedy strike at the heart of Narnia. Royalty stood in their darkest attire, hearts weeping in the same shades. The sky rained for three days. The country laid still in complete numbness. The procession of heavily decorated guards slowly carried the dark casket down the steps of the courtyard as the people of the city threw colorless flowers in their wake.  
  
  
  
King Edmund the Just was dead.  
  
  
  
Lucy choked in between sobs, burying her face into Peter’s chest as he held her tightly. The four kings and queens stood upon the highest steps, watching with weary eyes and heavy hearts. Peter clenched his jaw and fought his tears as he remembered the night when Susan came back from searching for Edmund.  
  
  
  
Caspian waited at Aslan’s How for two days until writing that the Just King had yet to arrive. Worried, Susan led Narnians out to the How and with Caspian, searched for Edmund.   
  
  
  
Peter saw the cold look in her eyes when she brought the group back home and through the gate into the grand hall. Shadows played upon her face, and she had a hard grip on her bow as she looked him straight in the eyes. And with one look, he never again saw Narnia as he once did.  
  
  
  
Susan locked herself in her room, allowing none in but the kings and queens and still not recalling any details to the night she found Edmund, cold and stiff, in the Dancing Lawn. Lucy took Edmund’s death the hardest, blaming it on the fact that she didn’t go in his stead to find Aslan. She reached out to Susan for comfort but the gentle queen could not muster any as she soon became more withdrawn. Peter had to juggle both sisters and his own guilt for Edmund, although bickering was common between the two, he still loved dearly.  
  
  
  
“We are fools!” Susan despaired, clinging onto Peter as he comforted her one night.  
  
  
  
“No, Su,” Peter told her, his voice carrying a ghostly sound to it. “We are free. Edmund. He’s free.” The mention of their brother’s passing, meant to comfort the gentle queen, only worsened her sobs and Peter then wished that he was not so Magnificent, but brave and valiant.  
  
  
  
Now, upon the day of his funeral, the four Pevensies were no more. There were only left with two daughters of Eve and one son of Adam.   
  
  
  
One son of Adam.  
  
  
  


\--------

  
  
  
  
Susan faintly remembered the taste of strawberries. Sour in some batches but when made into tarts, sweet as honey. Now, Susan notes, they only taste bitter. Every bite was a bite out of her own heart because Edmund, although not forward about it, had great favors in good strawberries. She watched as the flickering of her candle, which she made sure burned all night, highlighted the curves on the bowl of strawberries that Mrs. Badger left upon her night table. It remained untouched because Susan could not stand the thought of food. Tears danced upon her pillow, and she felt the bed shift beside her.  
  
  
  
“Susan…” she heard Caspian mumble, the rasp in his voice indicating that he had just woken. “You need to sleep.”  
  
  
  
“I am.” Susan replied, and she didn’t care if she sounded silly. The candle flickered once more, accenting the small seeds. She felt a dip close behind her back, and the warm arm slip around her waist.   
  
  
  
Caspian paused, trying to summon up the right words. The loss of a king was always so hard to take, but one of the great Kings of Old was a harsh blow. He loved King Edmund as his brother and comrade. His thoughts often wandered darkly, sending a need to destroy something---anything, but King Edmund represented a level head, and good judgment. And it was in leading his people that he decided to direct all the emotions.  
  
  
  
“I will not claim to feel what it feels like to lose a brother, a blood brother. But…” Caspian breathed against the crook of her neck. “I did love King Edmund as one, and feel I have lost him as one. It’s… hard, and sometimes suffocating but… you still have us, my queen. Queen Lucy. King Peter. Me, your Caspian. Don’t let go of us.”  
  
  
  
Susan listened to his words, which were spoken in love for Edmund and in love for her. But she gasped as she felt no love, but of the great sadness surging heavily upon her heart. She felt him wrap his arms around her tighter, encompassing her in his all and she cried out as if in pain against covers.  
  
  
  
She  _hated_  strawberries, she thought as Caspian gently comforted her in quiet whispers.  
  
  
  


\--------

  
  
  
  
The massive doors shook as soldiers rammed against it. The latches clattered against one another, and the dust of the hinges fell to the floor. Anxious Narnians, Old and New, stood with their weapons posed, all ready to strike the moment the gates flew open.  
  
  
_Thump_.  
  
  
Caspian felt a hand slip into his own, and he turned to Susan. His eyes searched hers and their thoughts were unspoken. This was it. This was the end. But Susan felt it was the end when Edmund had fallen three months ago. Caspian was less inclined to give up. They had been separated from Peter and Lucy in the raid, and it was just them now and their men. They would make it, Caspian grinded out in his head. He gave her hand a small squeeze.  
  
  
_Thump_.  
  
  
The cold drifted over his sweaty palm when Susan retreated back to straighten her bow at the ready.   
  
  
This was it. Susan grimaced as she pulled back, the string stinging the bends of her fingers.  
  
  
_Thump_.  
  
  
He raised his sword towards the trembling doors. In sync with the slamming open of wood against stone, he cried out as he had done numerous times before.  
  
  
  
“For Aslan!”   
  
  
  
They charged, and it was metal upon metal, and the whirrs of crossbows, and the clicking of hooves. Susan stayed back, shooting arrows off one after the other. This was the end, she knew. She was no longer fighting for Aslan, as Caspian had proclaimed. She no longer believed in Aslan.   
  
  
  
He had let Edmund die. And so it would no longer be for Aslan that would she die.  
  
  
  
As she saw their group diminishing, she bolted forward then, striking as many as she could. A pluck of her string and the sound of the arrowhead piercing through skin.  
  
  
  
As soon as her arrow was released, pain sliced through her neck. She dropped, grasping at the bolt in her neck. Through glistening eyes, she saw that Caspian had watched her fall, and turned his back upon his enemies.  
  
  
  
_Fool_ , she thought, watching him run to her.  _Fool, behind you_.  
  
  
  
Caspian fell short of her as an arrow pierced an opening in his armor. She opened her mouth to cry for him, but felt she could not do so without agony. Her mouth tasted the copper of blood, and she thought in amazement that it tasted of nothing other than blood.  
  
  
  
No guilt. No shame. No bitterness. No sadness. No regret.   
  
  
  
She tasted blood. Just blood.  
  
  
  
Her eyes trailed from Caspian’s, full of prevailing love despite the end, and saw Lord Mersus, approaching with his sword in hand, an almost Cheshire smile upon his lips that reminded her of one she used to believe in…  
  
  
  


\--------

 

End.


End file.
